


Harmless

by JennMel



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drink Spiking, Episode: s03e05 The First Time, M/M, Not Sebastian friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennMel/pseuds/JennMel
Summary: Blaine was wrong. Sebastian isn't harmless. He's the kind of guy who buys you a beer, who dances with you, who waits, watching for your spiked drink to kick in, who wants to get you alone where no one can find you.An alternate version of the scene at Scandals in s3ep5 The First Time, and the aftermath it creates.





	Harmless

Blaine’s head felt really fluffy. Really funny. Really-

The world skipped, Sebastian’s face blurring into Kurt’s and back again, and this music was really good, really everywhere, really-

His body pushed up against Kurt as they danced, smiling, grinning, and he let himself be pulled either which way, and the faces blurred again, but this was good, this was fun. They were supposed to be fun, spontaneous, not boring, not old. Supposed to be young. That was a good idea, right? Dancing is good, being close to Kurt is good. Lots of things are good.

Like this bar. This bar is really good.

And the music, and the bodies next to him, and his really, really fluffy brain.

Blaine was almost certain he stumbled, and his vision skipped again, and his stomach lurched sickeningly.

Ow.

Brain less fluffy. Brain a lot more wobbly.

A pair of strong arms wound around his waist then, and a beautiful face smiling a wry grin swam into view.

Kurt.

Blaine loves Kurt.

“I think it’s time we headed back?” Kurt’s voice was melodious, but still piercing as it rose to be heard over the music.

Blaine blinked owlishly, nodding sloppily. Home. Yeah, home would be good? At least get away from the music, get away from the noise, get away from the spinning in his ears and the pounding in his head and the horrible way the world kept tilting.

The chill November air was a blast on Blaine’s face, disconcerting but welcoming, and he leant further against Kurt, babbling happily at his boyfriend. He wasn’t really keeping track, but Kurt was there and replying, his arms warm around Blaine.

Blaine loves Kurt.

The world tipped again, and Blaine’s skin felt tingly, his skin felt hot and tight and strange and weird and funny.

Car? Oh, car.

Kurt.

And it seemed like a good idea even though it wasn’t, and he was kissing Kurt, grabbing at Kurt’s clothes, because Blaine felt funny and weird, and he didn’t like it and Kurt could make him feel better, Blaine knew he could.

They should just get it over with.

Stop being scared, because scary was bad, and _this_ was scary. The spinning and the heat and the tingling and the roiling.

But then Kurt ripped himself away from Blaine’s grasp, and suddenly he was yelling, and Blaine was so, so confused, because his head _hurt_ and his vision skipped, and he just wanted it all to stop.

Why was Kurt yelling?

_Blaine loves Kurt._

Itchy skin, itchy feet, and somehow Blaine managed to lever himself out of the car, staggering away from Kurt, because he didn’t understand. He swayed slightly, throwing his hands up in the air, because he doesn’t want Kurt to yell. He doesn’t want to feel like this.

His brain skipped and stuttered, and everything sort of made sense, but at the same time, it really, _really_ didn’t, and his skin felt hot and wrong and he just had to get away.

Home?

Kurt had said home.

Home was a good idea.

Blaine should walk home.

He vaguely heard someone yell, but it was distant, removed, and really, it was hard enough to watch the ground and make sure his feet went where he told them. He couldn’t concentrate on someone else right now without falling over.

Time skipped again, and Blaine was pretty sure he wasn’t in the parking lot anymore. And he might have been cold, but he was also very hot, and either way, his skin was prickling.

His feet crossed sideways, and his shoulder impacted something as he stumbled without balance.

Wall?

Car?

Tree?

Where even _was he?_

What was even happening?

Where was Kurt?

_Blaine loves Kurt._

Strong arms wrapped securely around Blaine’s waist, and he found himself leaning against something softer, warmer.

Kurt?

His skin felt hot and tight, and the world just wasn’t co-operating, and his stomach felt fuzzy and his brain felt sick.

Blaine let his head drop onto Kurt’s shoulder, and the arms around his waist tightened into a more guiding grip, helping him walk again.

_“It’s okay, come on Blaine-”_

The voice was soft and cajoling and gentle, and not at all angry or sad or yelling.

That’s nice.

Blaine felt his back hit something hard. Car? Probably car. And then he leaned backwards, his spine curving to the contours of the surface behind him as Kurt pressed up against him, as Kurt’s hands dipped to grip onto his hips, as Kurt’s lips latched ghosted over his jaw, over his neck, his breath hot.

Blaine felt claustrophobic, he felt weird, he felt odd, and Kurt’s fingers were digging hard into his hips, his body was pressed flush, tight, too tight against Blaine, grinding against him, his teeth nipping at Blaine’s neck.

Blaine mumbled in confusion, he let his forehead drop to rest against Kurt’s collarbone.

Kurt’s taller than Blaine.

Kurt’s _a lot_ taller than Blaine?

_Blaine loves Kurt._

And then one of the hands dipped, wandered, and Blaine felt an intruding pressure on his crotch, hard, persistent, groping.

_“Come on Blaine, this’ll be good, I promise…”_

Kurt’s voice dripped too deep into Blaine’s ear, and he felt himself manoeuvred like a rag doll, separate, divided, removed.

But Kurt yelled, didn’t he?

_“Let’s have some fun, yeah Blaine? You’ll enjoy this-”_

The groping hand, the grinding crotch, the pressure, it all returned in a rushing heat as Blaine felt himself pushed back, his knees bending, something plastic and sharp digging into his side as suddenly he was in the back seat of a car.

Everything felt weird and wrong and hot and tight and what was happening again?

Groping pressure increased through the fabric of his pants, and Blaine’s head lolled, the tingling electricity jolting through him the only thing that seemed grounded.

And then the fingers wandered upwards to his belt buckle, harsh and frantic, and he was pretty sure there were some whispered fervent placations, but he couldn’t hear, and what was, why was-

_Blaine loves Kurt._

But then the groping pressure disappeared and the body above Blaine was suddenly gone, removed, not there.

Blaine didn’t understand. His head felt hot and his skin felt tight and everything was just _too much_.

He let his head drop to the side again and his body curl how it wanted in the cramped space. His skull felt like it was going to split in two.

Kurt.

Where was Kurt?

_Blaine Loves Kurt._

00000

Kurt took a breath, hands resting on his steering wheel. Calm down. Just calm down.

Tonight had not been a good night.

He took another steadying breath.

Okay, no, be angry at Blaine later, yell at Blaine later. Right now, your boyfriend is very, very drunk, and there’s no way you can let him walk home by himself.

Kurt growled at himself out of frustration, and got out of the car again, locking it behind him. Blaine really was a lightweight; there’s no way he could have gotten very far. Kurt strode off in the direction he had thought Blaine was heading.

Where was he? Frustration and anger bubbled, but Kurt tried to keep a level head.

Yell later. Just yell later.

“Kurt?”

Kurt jumped out of his skin, spinning around. Dave Karofsky stood a few feet away, hands stuffed into pockets with a frown on his face, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”

Kurt forced his shoulders to relax, “Don’t be. Just… habit, I guess.”

David shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “What are you doing out here? Where’s your boyfriend?”

Kurt shook his head, a lot calmer and for some reason not really scared, despite the fact he was alone in a deserted parking lot with his old school bully. Maybe he was naïve. Or tired. Or still too busy being angry at Blaine. “He was drunk and we had a fight. He wandered off, but I need to find him. I can’t let him walk home.” Why was he even _telling_ Karofsky? The words just tumbled out.

But David simply shrugged, “That sucks. I can help you look for him if you like? He’s a midget; can’t’ve got far. I’d say ask your other friend, but he looked pretty busy…”

Kurt’s head whipped around, a strange unexplainable twist coiling in his stomach, “Friend?”

“Yeah, skinny guy, preppy shirt, shit-eating grin?”

“Sebastian?”

Karofsky shrugged, “Dunno. But I think I saw him round the back of the bar. Guess he pulled.”

Sebastian. Pulled. A guy. Despite being all over Blaine all night, he’d pulled.

Kurt’s whole body froze, every muscle taunt with a terrified electricity.

“Oh my god…” Kurt knew. He just knew, he couldn’t explain but he did.

“What?” David frowned, honestly concerned.

Blaine was the other guy…

“Where? Show me! Now!”

David pointed and Kurt was off running, Karofsky quickly on his heels, confused but determined to find out what was going on.

Kurt’s heart pounded in his ears, a million scenarios. What if Blaine got with Sebastian because Kurt had rejected him? Had Kurt made a mistake to say no to Blaine at the car? What if Sebastian had won, what if-

Kurt’s heart stuttered for a second. Tucked away in a shadowy corner of the lot was the Dalton boy’s car. The back door was slightly ajar, not quiet shut, and a shadow was moving behind the slightly steaming glass.

No. Hell no. Not like this. However drunk Blaine got, surely he couldn’t be that stupid?

Kurt made the last two steps, and ripped the door open in time to see Sebastian on top of his boyfriend in the backseat, hands all over him, over his hips, fumbling at Blaine’s waistband, pulling at his own belt.

And Kurt couldn’t move, completely couldn’t process. Every sharp word fled his mind, razor blades tearing at his lungs because this could _not be happening to him._

Karofsky had a different reaction. Taking one look past Kurt he swore violently, diving forward to bodily drag Sebastian out of the car. And Sebastian might be tall, but Karofsky is freaking huge and scary, and lands a really good punch.

Or, three punches in this case. Enough to sent Sebastian to the floor.

“Blaine?” Kurt still couldn’t move, he hated how his voice cracked, he hated how he just wanted to cry, he hated that Blaine’s betrayal could do this to him, that Blaine _would_ do this to him.

Karofsky ignored Kurt, clambering into the car, grasping at Blaine’s shoulders as he shook the smaller boy with surprising gentleness, calling to him, “Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me? Blaine!” Blaine’s body twisted away, his eyes unfocused and drooping. Karofsky shook his head, trying to get a better grip on Blaine as he said darkly, “Shit, he really dosed you up, didn’t he?”

David’s words jump-started Kurt’s brain. Dosed? What?

And then he really looked. He looked past the immediate tableau of the untucked shirt and half open pants. He looked past the blooming hickey on Blaine’s neck and his swollen red lips.

He looked at his boyfriend’s eyes.

And he couldn’t see Blaine.

They were empty; drooping, confused, blank, and just really _not there._

It all rushed towards Kurt like a speeding train.

_“I really don’t like that guy…”_

_“He’s harmless…”_

_“A beer for Blaine…”_

_“You better watch your boyfriend…”_

_“I’ve only had one beer…”_

Karofsky wrapped a firm arm around Blaine’s middle, attempting to pull him out of the backseat. Blaine’s head completely dropped against the other boy’s chest, and Kurt knew for certain then that Blaine really had no idea what was going on. Blaine would never knowingly let himself get so close to Karofsky after everything that had happened last year.

Blaine’s eyes were closed now, and Kurt’s heart thumped, a lump in his throat.

_One second more…_

_What if he’d driven off? What if he’d left?_

David had somehow scooted himself and Blaine to the door of the car, and Kurt finally unstuck himself, rushing forward to help support the barely conscious boy as Karofsky pulled him out completely. Blaine’s knees buckled and he didn’t even try to support his own weight as he bonelessly slumped against Karofsky, fingers barely twined into the other boy’s jacket.

Kurt was almost sure he could feel himself crying, but ignored the tears running down his cheeks, instead just looping his arms around Blaine’s waist from the other side.

He didn’t take his eyes off Blaine’s face as they walked him back to the car. He didn’t look at David, he didn’t look at the wet leafy ground, and he _definitely_ didn’t even glance at the bloody unconscious visage of Sebastian, still lying right where Karofsky had floored him.

Between them, they managed to get a barely responsive Blaine into the back seat of Kurt’s car.

“I’ll drive you both,” said David, puncturing the silence.

Kurt shook his head, “No, it’s fine.”

“Kurt, you’re not in any shape to drive-”

“I’ll look after him,” Kurt cut across Karofsky sharply with a catch in his voice.

The other boy nodded reluctantly, face grim. “Do you still have my cell number from when I was in the bully whips?” Kurt nodded, his eyes still fixed on Blaine through the car window. David sighed, “Text me when you both get home okay?”

“Yeah…”

David grabbed Kurt’s arm, and finally got his attention. “I knew a girl once. At a party. A couple of college guys crashed it and tried to spike some of the cheerleaders’ drinks. She looked the same way Blaine did. She was lucky too, but Kurt, he probably won’t remember anything from tonight, and when he wakes up, he’ll be freaked. Just talk to him, yeah? Just…be there.” Kurt blinked, overwhelmed. The whole evening had been a lot, and now faced with this version of Karofsky it was nearly too much to process.

“Thank you,” Kurt finally said quietly. He meant it. “If you hadn’t been here tonight-”

“I owe you way more,” Karofsky dismissed sincerely. “And no one deserves what that creep tried to do.”

“Sebastian…” Kurt remembered in a daze and a rush of anger.

“Go home Kurt. Take Blaine home,” said Karofsky forcefully, cutting off Kurt’s train of thought.

So Kurt just nodded. He looked upon the one person he had feared the most in his life with complete trust, and got in the car.

00000

The first thing Blaine registered was a pounding head. Take a hangover, and then make it sharper, deeper, darker.

The second thing Blaine registered was a complete emptiness where his memory should be.

His eyes snapped open with a breathless jolt running through his body, and too many things flooded his senses all at once, making the room spin.

Kurt’s room, Kurt’s bed, no shirt, no shoes, definitely pants, Kurt next to him, Kurt’s arms around him, dawn through the curtains.

No memory.

But he didn’t feel drunk. He didn’t feel like he’d had too much alcohol, he didn’t feel like he wanted to throw up.

Well, he did, but not because of drink.

And, god, his head hurt so much.

And then his brain came screeching into sharp, painful focus, because he was shirtless, and the comforter had been kicked to the side, and his pants rode quite low on his hips, and were those _finger marks?_ Tiny bruises bloomed dark against his hipbones, a suggestive pattern that his eyes couldn’t pull away from.

Oh god.

What _happened_ last night?

Why couldn’t he remember?

“K-kurt?” Blaine’s voice came out in a choke, scrambling in a frantic attempt to sit up on his elbows, to sit up and get as far away from those bruises as possible.

Except he couldn’t get away. Because they were _on him_.

He dislodged Kurt’s arms in his panic, and this was worse, so much worse than when he had woken up hungover in Kurt’s bed the last time.

There were no snippets of drunken memories, no alcohol-fuzzed mouth, no still-slightly-drunk sensation.

Just blank. A horrible, terrifying black blank, and a throbbing head.

Kurt blinked awake, face confused for a second before he sat up and grabbed at his panicking boyfriend, “Blaine! Blaine, honey, calm down.” Blaine’s hands were shaking, his eyes darting over Kurt who seemed tired but otherwise okay. He needed Kurt to be okay because right now Blaine was falling apart. Kurt wrapped warm, steady hands around Blaine’s own, his voice a balm against Blaine’s jagged nerves.  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay.”

Blaine’s breath was coming in short, sharp snatches of air, and it didn’t escape his notice how Kurt’s eyes were drawn to the marks on Blaine’s skin, stark in the morning light. Kurt’s face was dark with something unspoken, something he either wouldn’t or couldn’t voice.

“Kurt, what…” Blaine swallowed and took a breath, desperately trying to gather the unravelling strands of himself together. Calm down. Kurt’s here. Be rational. It’ll be fine. “What happened? I can’t…I don’t remember…I was dancing with you in the bar, and…nothing. Kurt?” Despite all attempts, Blaine’s voice gathered in pitch all over again as he spoke, words running away with themselves as he tumbled into an unnameable fear.

Kurt bit his lip, his eyes lacking their usual spark as he met Blaine’s pleading gaze steadily. He opened his arms invitingly, and Blaine immediately curled into the offered embrace, leaning against Kurt’s chest, allowing himself to be pulled back as they sat against the headboard.

The silence that stretched between them was the longest of Blaine’s life. But he trusted Kurt. He trusted Kurt to take his time, to weigh his words, and most of all, not to lie to him.

 “Sebastian spiked your drink last night,” said Kurt, his voice measured. Blaine’s entire body flinched in Kurt’s arms, and Kurt rested his damp cheek against Blaine’s head as he continued softly, “Nothing happened. Karofsky and I stopped him before he got too far.”

Blaine couldn’t look away from the bruises on his hips. He wanted to, but his eyes just wouldn’t obey him. He felt sick, “How far is _too far?_ ”

“The back of his car,” Kurt said quietly, his voice oddly blank. Blaine felt himself nodding, shell shocked. One beat, two beats, Blaine’s breathing getting faster, his lungs tight, a shivering cold sweat breaking out over his skin.

And then Blaine ripped himself from Kurt’s arms, hitting the floor hard on his knees and grabbed the trash can.

His heaves were practically dry, but he couldn’t stop the reflex, the sheer _what if_. The yawning black hole in his memory was a pit for his imagination to run riot. He felt trapped in his own body, every nerve crawling and jittering, an invisible alien weight saturating every pore of his skin, suffocating him.

And then Kurt was beside him, holding him.

Blaine didn’t think he could love Kurt more than in that moment. Quietly present, arms secure around Blaine, pulling Blaine's mind back into his ill-fitting body so they could face what had nearly… what _had_ happened _._ Together.

They talked. A lot. They got through the stage of Blaine’s first meltdown. They got past the stage of Kurt’s profuse, desperately tumbling apologies for nearly leaving him, for not noticing that Blaine wasn’t really drunk, but drugged.

Because how could he have noticed?

He sure as hell noticed what kind of a guy Sebastian was, and Blaine only felt closer to Kurt for that. Protected. Safe.

And with a dark chasm torn through his memories, Blaine really needed to feel safe right now.

They skipped school, but Blaine insisted they went to the last Thursday rehearsal in the afternoon.

He just needed to disappear for a few hours into Tony. Into music.

Nick called to say Sebastian was off sick and wouldn’t make the opening night – apparently he got mugged on his way home from a bar the other night.

Blaine wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Although he wasn’t sure he felt much at all at the moment when he wasn’t singing.

Kurt was different, fierce enough for the both of them. He was also thankful to Karofsky for what he had done that night. Kurt wasn’t a person for revenge, but the sad fact was they couldn’t involve the cops – two gay kids drinking underage at a gay bar in Ohio report a near rape? Yeah, that’d be received _really_ well.

He hadn’t even told his dad, but that had been more because of Blaine. Kurt had barely mentioned Burt Hummel, and the sheer blind terror in Blaine’s eyes had immediately sent Kurt into a stream of reassurances. Blaine felt an echo of hollow guilt at how much he knew it killed Kurt to lie to his dad about anything, but he also knew Kurt wouldn’t betray Blaine’s trust and that meant the world.

Kurt walked softly onto the empty stage as Blaine landed his practice move, his hands casually resting in his pockets, a warm smile on his face as he said, “You were amazing tonight.”

Blaine smiled softly in return, “I messed up this move. I want to get it right for tomorrow.”

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly, coming up to stand before his boyfriend, “Well, I thought you were perfect. Everyone did.”

Blaine’s smile faltered, his eyes distant as he caught Kurt’s hand, pulling it gently until their clasped hands rested against Kurt’s chest, “I love you, so much. You saved me… You _save_ me.”

Blaine leaned forwards and captured Kurt’s lips with a sigh, as the taller boy raised his arms to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulders. They parted, and Kurt leant his cheek against Blaine's, letting out a breath and a whisper, “You take my breath away.” He pulled back, his eyes searching Blaine’s, “And not just now, but tonight on that stage, since yesterday, coping with everything. I’m so proud to be with you.”

“I hope so.” Blaine’s voice cracked and caught, and he felt Kurt's breath catch in return, “I want you to be.” Heavy emotion threaded his voice, not quite released.

Kurt’s eyes were searching, clouded, the events of the last few days still tense in his muscles. “Do you?”

Blaine blinked, not even for a moment taking the question for the more innocent meaning. He blinked again, and was really sure, “I do. I can’t… I was, I think _we_ were ready, before. And I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to it nearly not being _you_. About what Sebastian nearly stole. And I can’t stand that.”

Kurt was quiet, his arms still a reassuring weight on Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine thought back to that night in his bedroom, what seemed so long ago now, when he was dancing carefree to Roxy music and Kurt was blushing to the roots of his hair.

Kurt’s eyes had aged a lot in these few days. Blaine knew he had too.

“I love you, so much. And I think you’re right, I think we are ready,” Kurt’s voice was steady, barely above a murmur, his eyes locked on Blaine’s. “But when we share this, I want it to be for _us._ Not because Artie has got some antiquated idea of his lead actors needing ‘life experience’. Not because an evil person hurt you, hurt us. Not because we want to erase the bad with the good. I don’t want there to be some invisible ticking clock. Is that okay?”

A weight Blaine hadn’t been aware of lifted from his chest at Kurt’s words, and he felt himself relax completely for the first time since before that awful night. He brushed Kurt’s lips softly in a kiss. “I love you.”

Kurt smiled coyly, “So, how do you feel about gracing the after party with your leading man stardom?”

“Only if the play’s comic genius will deign to make an appearance,” Blaine returned teasingly, hooking his arm in the crook of Kurt’s elbow.

Over a month later, on a high of a win at Regionals and buzzing with life, they happened to go back to Blaine’s. Tumbling into his room, laughing, singing stupid snippets of their Michael-medley, everything just clicked.

They shared each breath; they shared each grazing of fingertips, each rhythm of hearts. They kissed away the invisible marks, and all the while, it was all Kurt and Blaine, just them.

Their eyes never broke contact, even when breaths stuttered, heat flushed and nerves sang.

Blaine loves Kurt.

Kurt loves Blaine.

And it was perfect. Because it was them. Only them.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> If you thought this was familiar, I posted this ages ago on ffnet, but it never sat right with me how I ended it (also there was a lot of POV hopping, writer-me took a while to learn not to do that). So when I decided to move it, I gave it a major facelift, particularly the ending which was completely changed. I'm much happier with it now, especially as it gave me the chance to address my major bug-bear of this ep - namely how Artie pushed everything forwards. Don't get me wrong I love the ep and klaine, I just always felt it was a little forced script-wise. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


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